


Surrender

by under_my_blue_umbrella



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Athos' multi-purpose scarf, F/M, Vulnerable Athos, about that one time we learned that Athos likes to be tied up, and Sylvie doesn't mind, s03e0a6 Death of a Hero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 05:51:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16528628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_my_blue_umbrella/pseuds/under_my_blue_umbrella
Summary: Athos is a born leader, always on top of things. Well... except when he prefers not to be.Remember the opening sequence to "Death of a Hero" when, just as a casual aside, we learned that Athos likes to be tied up? This is a little ficlet about how Sylvie found out.Not my first fanfic, but my first foray into the Musketeers fandom. (I know, I'm late to the party, but better late than never, right?) Show some love if you like it. Ta.





	Surrender

She was surprised the first time Athos, face buried in the crook of her neck, nibbling at her skin, softly whispered: “Tie my hands.”

“What?”

Instead of repeating what he’d said, he kissed her neck one more time and sat up, one bare leg still resting across hers, the murky warmth of recent sex rising from his skin like steam. Face partially hidden beneath his tangled, unruly hair, he extended both arms towards her, wrists up and next to each other, hands curled into loose fists.

“Use my scarf.” His voice was a husky drawl.

She looked at him, bemused and a little flustered. Looked at the one eye she could see through the curly strands of dark hair falling over his face like ribbons. At the need and want glittering in his sea-green gaze. She felt her heart begin to pound.

Not breaking eye-contact, she reached behind her, feeling for Athos’ scarf draped across his leathers on a stool by the bed. In front of her, Athos gasped, and in that little noise, Sylvie heard both relief and excitement. She found the scarf and dragged it over his exposed wrists. His arms trembled slightly as the fabric made skin contact. Athos blinked slowly, his lashes descending like thick, heavy curtains. The look on his face, both anxious and wistful, made her own skin prickle.

Slowly, she wound the scarf around his wrists, once, twice, oddly touched by the vulnerability of the soft white skin there and the blue veins pulsating underneath. Athos, battle-hardened, calloused and scar-studded, was offering her a side of himself that was so utterly defenseless, it made her breath hitch in her throat.

She tied the loose ends into a firm knot, his hands now helplessly bound in her lap. Then she ran her own hands up his arms, his broad shoulders, his neck. Reaching his face, she cupped it, feeling heat and stubble and sweat against her palms. His lips, deliciously full and always slightly parted where the old scar drew his mouth upward, beckoned hers, and she answered. Their kiss was languid at first, then more urgent as both their breaths quickened.

Sylvie, on instinct, drew away, surprised and elated when Athos responded with a woeful little whimper. She grasped his chin and brushed his hair out of his face, exposing heavy-lidded, needy eyes and flushed cheeks. He raised his tied fists and ran them softly, helplessly down her naked breasts and belly. It was incredibly arousing.

She took a deep breath, moved by the strong, vulnerable man now kneeling in front of her, yielding to her in a display of unconditional trust. She looked at him - really looked, past his steadfast commanding presence, past the premature lines war had written on his face, past his shoulders always squared to take on the weight of responsibility - and suddenly she understood this man’s bone-deep yearning to surrender, to for once stop fighting and _give in_ , to relinquish control. Mischief battled in her chest with a sudden urge to cry, and she took both emotions to lock eyes with Athos and nod in silent acquiescence with what he was asking of her.

“And now, Captain”, she then said firmly, pushing him flat on his back and lifting his bound wrists above his head, pinning them in place. “Now you will follow my orders.”

**Author's Note:**

> We were all intrigued by Athos' and Sylvie's little bondage role play, weren't we? (Well, I was.) Had it been Aramis, we would've just grinned. But Athos? Our strong, stoic, commanding Captain? I felt the need to explore why Athos, of all people, desperately needs to sometimes surrender. And how Sylvie - another very strong character - found out, understood why and went with it.


End file.
